


Lessons in Laughter

by die_wiederkehr



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Gen, Undertaker raises a twin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_wiederkehr/pseuds/die_wiederkehr
Summary: In an attempt to ensure one Phantomhive will be safe regardless of what happens, Vincent entrusts the care of his youngest son to a close friend.*A series of drabbles with only basic plot. Feel free to send in requests/ideas for new "chapters"*





	1. Planning

The birth of two boys had come as a surprise to everyone in the Phantomhive manor, that snowy December day. Twin wails filling the halls as Rachel and Angelina held the babes and tried to calm them, Vincent and Tanaka just trying to come to terms with it.

Of course, one would be raised as Vincent's heir. That went without question. And the other, if anything ever happened to the heir, would replace him, but that wwas the difficulty. With both there, growing up together, anyone who visited would know of the twin. And, in his line of work, Vincent knew that could be even more dangerous. The only solution he could come up with was that one couldn't be raised there but who could he trust with his son? At least, once he could convince Rachel of the idea and when he was old enough to be parted from her.

His first thought was Dietrich but the German was hard. Too hard to raise a child, and he didn't want his son so far away. Francis was close but his family would be looked at closely regardless of whether or not knowledge of the twins got out. Angelina would take him but that same issue arose.

The answer came later that same day, in the form of a visiting mortician. He'd sent word to him, just in case, when Rachel had gone into labor. By then, at least one child, the younger one, had still refused to calm. Rachel was exhausted, Angelina had fallen asleep, Tanaka answered the door while Vincent tried lulling him to sleep and yet still he cried. And then Undertaker entered the room, a delighted laugh announcing his arrival as he walked over, reaching out a long-nailed finger to poke at the babies nose.

And he calmed. A little giggle escaping him and then a yawn.

"Astre hasn't stopped crying all day." Vincent commented after a moment of absolute awe. "Ciel calmed easily, Rachel sang to him."

All the crying caught up to the baby and he started dozing, blue eyes watching Undertaker until sleep took him and Vincent could tuck him against his brother, gesturing for Undertaker to follow him down to the parlor. Where he promptly threw himself into a chair.

"I'm glad you came. Even if it isn't work related." The earl said with a grin. Tanaka appeared a moment later, with tea and brandy for both, depending on preference. Vincent reached for a brandy glass.

"M'lord has two boys now. Such a blessing, it is." A blessing was one word. And Undertaker didn't often just stick to small talk like that. "Something is on m'lord's mind. Something to do with his sons, I might guess."

He was observant, one reason Vincent depended on him so often. He didn't answer immediately, instead pouring his glass of brandy and taking a large drink.

"You know that I can't have two heirs." He said slowly. "I would raise both here if my... occupation didn't come with certain hazards."

"That does present a problem."

Was he playing dumb? Vincent couldn't tell and he wasn't sure if he was just unsure or if the stress of the day had finally worn him down that much. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Undertaker never had been the easiest for him to read anyway.

"I can't raise him. We can't. None of the Phantomhive's or our family can. " He went on. "And I would prefer he remain in England. For my own benefit and Rachel's. She would never allow Dietrich to take him to Germany, for example."

He watched the other man, how he seemed to still. So Vincent chose to strike then.

"Would you take him? Once I convince Rachel of the necessity of it."

Undertaker still seemed frozen and the burst into laughter. As if he had been joking! Vincent set his glass down, drink forgotten, and waited for the laughter to subside.

"You really do give me the best laughs, earl." He continued to chuckle. "Hardly fit for raising a tyke, I am. And my shop isn't exactly the best place for a little one. Not unless he wants nightmares."

He wasn't backing down. Oh no.

"It's already clear he likes you. And I wouldn't trust anyone else in England to take him in. Nor would I expect you to support him entirely. I would ensure his needs are met. Food, clothes, a bed. Everything." No wasn't an answer Vincent was going to accept. "And I wouldn't expect it now. In a couple years time, when he's able to walk, eat."

He was ready to pay all his upkeeping and more, if only to keep his son close and safe. If Undertaker hadn't come that day, and Astre hadn't reacted as he had, he might never have found a solution. He would never object to keeping both boys but he had to face all possible futures.

"Please." The addition was unfair. He knew it, Undertaker knew it. Vincent rarely ever added a 'please' to a request. It meant a great deal to him when he did. And Undertaker was suddenly, visibly, torn.

A child living with an Undertaker, amongst the dead each day like he was? He wasn't sure but he also rarely refused Vincent anything. If only because he never had a lot he really needed from him that was so important.

"You really need this, eh?" A nod was his only answer and, even with the reapers haze, it was a recognizable movement. "Very well. Can't say he'll have a noble upbringin' but he'll grow up safe."

And that was all Vincent wanted.


	2. The Price of Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astre surprises everyone.

Two years passed and though Rachel had agreed, she wasn't happy in the least when she had to give her son up. Her cheeks her soaked with tears, and neither Ciel or Astre understood what was wrong, two pairs of eyes watching her, inhumanly observant for their age. And the looks only served to break her heart more, even as Vincent reminded her of the necessity of it.

Even if it had only been two years, she hadn't gotten to experience everything she wanted to. Ciel had spoken first, Astre had walked first. Ciel was walking then but Astre had still refused to speak, though he understood well enough. He could speak, surely, he just didn't want to.

All of this she reminded Vincent of as they rode into London and he reminded her of his position as the Queen's Watchdog. How, if anything happened, Astre would be safe and unknown. And the tears started again, flowing until they pull up in front of the morticians place of business, Vincent gathering the youngest twin into his arms, Tanaka collecting his things. Ciel stayed curled in his mothers arms, the countess needing a few moments before following them inside.

It was dark and there were coffins littering the front room, as was expected, but it didn't reassure Rachel a great deal. And when Undertaker came out of the back, he was still dressed in dark robes, hair covering his eyes. For a moment she thought he might have dressed a bit better but then... how did one dress to take in a child?

"Time already, is it?" Undertaker giggled as Astre reached for him from his fathers arms. In preparation, Undertaker had visited much more often over the past couple years so Astre would be comfortable with him. And he was now, content in the mans arms as he and Undertaker spoke in hushed tones. Rachel was reluctant to put Ciel down at that point but he was getting bigger and she couldn't keep the curious child from exploring forever. Shortly after, Astre was put down with a pat on his head and two cookies. 

'Bone shaped, of course.' She thinks, the younger boy giving one to his brother before they run off to play and climb on coffins. How would Astre handle being left there? He'd never slept anywhere but home before, usually curled up against his brother. What if he couldn't sleep? What if none of the food Undertaker had would settle with Astre's stomach? What if he got sick?

Every concern she could think of came to mind until Vincent finished and joined Rachel, reminding her that they couldn't stay. They collected Ciel, watching Astre's confusion before kissing the top of his head, reminding him he had to stay there, his two your old mind not fully comprehending. 

He cried when he was left. Undertaker had expected it but expecting something and experiencing it were worlds apart. It took a couple hours but eventually, his sobs turned to hiccups, and then just sniffles, Undertaker gathering him up and rubbing his back gently.

"There there, little lord. Everything is fine." 

Why had he agreed to this?

The answer came only a couple years later. Astre had settled, he didn't cry as often about not living with his parents or brother, he curled against Undertaker in bed when he was afraid or upset. He could recall a storm, one he'd mostly slept through, until he woke to the feeling of his bed being climbed onto and a pair of small hands grasping his nightclothes tightly, a face buried against his chest. It hadn't been a good nights sleep but it showed him where he stood with the boy.

Astre was just a bit over four years old and had stolen one of Undertakers robes, proceeding to run about the building and giggling madly as Undertaker chased him, laughing just as much when he heard the bell over the door chime.

"Undertaker, I know you're in." A familiar voice came and he had to pause in his chase, the giggling boy stopping to look back. And giving Undertaker just the chance her needed to gather him up, tickling him and drawing out a few more giggles before going to the front of the shop.

Where Vincent stood, Ciel holding onto his hand and looking curiously toward the pair. Both were dressed well, very well, as expected of the earl and his heir, while Undertaker and his ward were dressed more casually under the robes, more like common London residents. Undertaker let Astre down and Ciel freed his hand from his fathers hold, giving the boys a chance to embrace, running about the room shortly after in play.

The two men watched for a moment before settling down to talk.

"I need information. The Queen-" Before he could finish, Astre seemed to materialize in Undertakers lap, eyes bright, smiling.

"You have to pay the price if you wanna know something!" Everything seemed to freeze, Vincent's eyes glued to his youngest son who seemed oblivious, Undertaker watching the boy for a moment longer before devolving into laughter, holding him close so he wouldn't fall. Once his laughter calmed, he gave Astre a little pat on the head.

"I think you just paid the price for him, Astre. That was a good laugh, it was." Even Vincent couldn't help a bit of laughter, Ciel climbing into his lap and the boys sharing a look of confusion, neither one understand what had just happened.

"I don't get it." Astre pouted. "You always say that."

"You're a bit young yet, I think, maybe in a few years. You and Ciel run off to play, hm?" He let the boy slide off his lap, watching the boys run off to the back of the shop and his and Astre's room, unable to hide the fond look he gave the child. A look Vincent honed in on, looking smug.

"And you were so unsure about raising him. I had to beg and now you would probably put anyone who looked at him wrongly in a coffin." Alive or dead was implied, he knew the gleam that seemed to shine in Vincent's eyes and he couldn't argue it.

Somehow, over two years, Astre had become an essential part of his life and it was hard to imagine him not being there, hard to imagine that laughter disappearing. 

"Guess he has grown on me a bit. Not that milord is surprised, I'm sure."

"Not at all. Now, about that job..."


	3. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astre gets sick and surprises Undertaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one but it was fun writing.

Vincent had dragged him to the manor to celebrate the twins turning five, claiming it was all Ciel had been asking for as a birthday gift. Astre had been asking Undertaker for a robe like his own, a simple request and fitting considering how he'd been raised so far. Vincent had laughed when he'd heard, Rachel had been mortified, the idea of one of her sons wanting to be alike the frightening mortician her husband was so fond of.

Everyone had conceded to Astre's request though and both boys had fun, exhausting themselves to the point that Undertaker had been forced to carry Astre out to the carriage and then to bed when they returned home. And he couldn't bring himself to mind. Astre had melded himself so well into Undertaker's life that he had trouble imagining the boy not being there. He'd even started helping with customers, especially those that had children. Shy as he was, he always seemed to want to make people feel better, grabbing cookies and offering them to the children as Undertaker handled business.

It was amazing the difference he made. He acted as if he didn't belong anywhere else but with Undertaker. It probably bothered his parents a great deal but it had never reached the point that they wanted him returned to the manor. Selfish as it was, that suited him just fine.

He slept that night without interruption but the thought that being alone again would be unbearable.

Winter was probably his busiest season for work, the people working themselves too much in the cold or succumbing to illness because of it, not enough food. Winter was hard in general and he didn't like Astre having to witness all the extra work every year so he would send him out to play whenever he had someone coming in.

At least until he got sick.

It wasn't anything new, they had enough that he could handle the childs fever, little colds, but this time was different. The fever was persistent but the cough that accompanied was more harsh, a little wet sounding each time, and came with a wheeze not unlike a whistle. He treated it as he did any other illness but he'd seen it before and put in a call to Vincent.

Who was there the same day with Madam Red in tow, both commenting that Rachel was in a right state at home, none of them telling Ciel his brother was sick.

"He has asthma. Just like his mother. He'll have to be very careful from here on." Angelina commented after looking the child over, dragging Undertaker and Vincent into another room to allow Astre to sleep. "I can leave you with some medicine, and you can find other treatments as well. Asthma cigarettes, mint on his chest. I can write out a list for you for the next time one of this fits strike but you really will have to make sure he takes it easy. He can't play in the cold as often, too much stress will trigger it as well."

Angelina told him everything he'd need to know, maybe more, and left a way of contact if he needed her help. Vincent took note as well, in case Ciel became ill as well, and then ensure Undertaker had more than enough medicine for the boy. And then he was left alone with Astre, changing the sign on his shop to closed so he could focus on the child. The dead didn't wait but he wasn't going to let his charge join them.

He stayed near Astre's bed, holding onto him as little hands reached weakly for him and holding the child to his chest, gently rubbing his back to sooth him. Leaving only a couple times to warm him some milk and honey so his throat wouldn't ache too much from coughing.

"Thank you, papa." Astre mumbled, sleepy, at one point. Undertaker had frozen at the sudden title, chalking it up to the fever and how exhausted the boy was. At least, until he was better. And it happened again shortly after he'd mostly recovered.

It was nearly spring, the snow was melting, birds were starting to come around more, it was rainy more than anything else. And he had errands to run, both around town and at Phantomhive Manor. Astre just tugged at his robe.

"I want to go with, papa."

Undertaker found himself freezing again, looking at the boy through his bangs and then slolwy, carefully, picking him up, brushing his hand over dark hair and mussing it a little.

"As if I'd leave you by your lonesome. You'll have to bundle up though, still a bit chilly out and we don't want you sick again. And you and Ciel can play again." Arms wrapped around him and hugged him as tightly as they could manage.

"I just want to go with you."


	4. Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astre learns something new. And so does his father.

Each day they were together, Undertaker couldn't help but wonder at how well the boy had adapted to life with him. A place like his, a person like him, by all rights should terrify a child like Astre. And yet, he was thriving, his childish mind aware of his relation to Vincent and yet placing Undertaker into the position his father should have filled. He'd started dressing like Undertaker (a necessity, his charge couldn't look like a noble without it putting him in danger) and had developed a similar sense of humor. He even tried to help with clients, although he refused to allow the boy to help him with his actual clients until he was older. Even a well-adjusted child didn't need that in their life.  
  
When work didn't take up time, their life was fairly simple. Astre had more energy than he expected from a child with a chronic illness. Luckily he could keep him busy with chess, card games, and books. He was incredibly clever for a child his age, he surprised Undertaker constantly with how quickly he picked everything up.  Sometimes it got hard to keep the boy busy.  
  
One afternoon it was particularly hard and Undertaker finally resorted to gathering up the bundle of energy that was Astre and teaching him to bake. And what better to bake than the bone shaped cookies that was expected of this place by then? And Astre loved them anyway, might as well teach him how to make them. Of course, this came with the difficulty that anyone with a child has: keeping them from eating the cookie dough. And, unfortunately, Astre had a wicked sweet tooth.  
  
"Not going to have enough for cookies, you keeping sneaking dough like that- don't think I can't see you." Undertaker commented back to the boy, laughing softly. He couldn't see him, even if he'd been turned and facing him, his vision was too blurry to make out more than a small figure, but he could hear the occasional giggle that signaled the child sneaking another bit.  
  
"Sorry." Astre sounded sheepish but he could tell there wasn't a hint of regret in him. Ah well, he was still very young. It wouldn't help with his energy but at least he was having fun and keeping busy. And it provided them treats to accompany their tea. Once they got to actually making the cookies though, Astre put his all into making sure they were perfectly shaped. It was precious really, the amount of focus he put into such a mundane task.  
  
And it was made all the better when, later in the day,  once the baking had finished and the pair had 'sampled' the cookies. Early in the afternoon, Undertaker received a message that Ciel and Vincent would be stopping by. No mention on if it was work or pleasure though. Not that it bothered him any, he still had his work even with minor interruptions. He imagined it would be business, such sudden warning, but at the same time, the earl usually just stopped in. It was always hard to tell when it came to nobles. However different Vincent was from others, the similarities stood out. It was pleasant knowing that Astre wasn't picking up these traits.  
  
Astre made it his mission that day to play a good host, likely due to his consumption of cookie dough earlier. And good, he needed to burn off the energy. Neither of them wanted to be up late in the night and up early again.  
  
Undertaker made sure to fix the tea, despite how excited Astre was to help, he was still young, small and weak, not someone he wanted to handle boiling water for tea. Everything else though, he let the boy handle. He honestly enjoyed watching him set himself to task, and wondered if his twin would be like this or get so adjusted to a nobles life that he just let his servants handle everything.  
  
When they arrived, it wasn't hard to see the differences between the children. Even young as they were, the two were already worlds apart. Astre's hair was getting long, he insisted on having hair like Undertakers, Ciel's was neatly cut. Ciel wore a tailored suit, looking every bit like a miniature Vincent, Astre wore what was warm and comfortable. And there was still a purity in Astre's actions, something that hadn't vanished in Ciel but he could see it slowly fading over the years since Vincent had left one of his sons with the mortician. And Ciel was being groomed as the next Watchdog, such a gentle heart had no place alongside that title. He was glad Astre wouldn't lose that.  
  
Even more, he was glad he wouldn't have to lose that sense of humor he'd developed with Undertaker. Astre had just run off to the kitchen and Vincent was watching him, look half fond and half longing. Of course the earl missed his other son. He could only imagine Rachel's heartache.  
  
"You know, Rachel would kill you if she saw his hair like that." And Undertaker could only laugh.  
  
"You know that the Countess doesn't frighten me." No one ever did, no one ever would. About then was when Astre reappeared, setting a plate of cookies on the table and inviting himself onto Undertaker's lap. As if it were perfectly normal for him.  
  
"I like my hair, it's just like papa's!"  
  
The entire room seemed to , Undertaker's blood turning to ice and Vincent's eyes going wide in shock. And a little pained. Ciel and Astre just exchanged a look, not entirely understanding the silence that had settled over the room. And neither man could think of a way to explain it. Eventually, Vincent broke the silence with a weak laugh.  
  
"Maybe Rachel will kill us both." It had been his idea, after all, to have Undertaker raise Astre. And he had resisted at first, that might spare Undertaker some of his wife's wrath. Vincent would probably take the full brunt of it. He went on:  
  
"We came for a fun visit though. We shouldn't let this get us down." That, at least, helped the twins. Astre immediately lifted the plate of cookies in offering.  
  
"I helped make these!" His proud presentation make everyone smile in a way that only a child could manage. And as Vincent and Ciel each took one, the words came out.  
  
"Bone appétit!"  
  
The hair wasn't the only thing, Vincent realized, that Astre had adopted from Undertaker, his sense of humor evolving similarly. Ciel didn't understand the pun but Vincent and Undertaker did, both devolving into laughter. It was a good thing Vincent hadn't eaten that cookie yet or they might have had an unfortunate new client.  
  
Undertaker gently scritched the top of Astre's head as his laughter calmed and then wrapped his arms around the boy. The Phantomhive's really did provide him with the choicest of laughter.


	5. Cheering Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undertaker is sad and Astre takes matters into his own hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, sorry.

A normal day usually had at least one client coming through his doors, either following the death of a loved one or in preparation of it. It wasn't uncommon for families to prepare early for a death, ensure a stone and a plot, the coffin could come later. That day though, everything had been quiet. Quiet days allowed Undertaker's thoughts to wander and sometimes they wandered to places he'd rather avoid. It couldn't he helped though, his mind going back over and over again until he was holding onto his mourning chain, eyeing the names on each charm until he settled on 'Claudia P.' The name always made his heart ache and his gaze go distant.

Unfortunately,  he wasn't able to be alone with his thoughts very often anymore, his charge coming into the room moments later. In the way all children notice something wrong, Astre did and his little face looked concerned, running over to Undertaker and one hand reaching up to grasp his sleeve. Blue eyes stared up at him.

"Papa?" He didn't even give Undertaker a chance to say anything before he was climbing into his lap, the man shifting carefully so the boy wouldn't get tangled up with the chain. "You look sad."

He was so observant, it almost made Undertaker smile. Instead, he ruffled Astre's hair a little and then wrapped an arm around him.

"I'm not sad, it's alright." He tried to reassure him. Except the boy slipped from his arm and lap a moment later, looking thoroughly unconvinced. He disappeared into the kitchen, and Undertaker could hear some shuffling, a chair scraping against the floor, the sound of the cookie jar opening and then closing, then the patter of feet running back, Astre coming into view shortly after and climbing back into his lap. A second later, Astre was offering him one of the bone cookies they'd baked.

"Oh, thank you but you can have it." Undertaker smiled but the boy would not be dissuaded, pressing the cookie against his papa's lips.

"I picked it for you though!" Gentle pressing of the cookie until Undertaker finally took it between his lips, lest the boy end up breaking it and leaving a mess on them both. And then Astre's arms were around his neck, pleased that he'd taken the cookie, and kissing his scarred cheek. "I love you, papa. You're the best, so you should always be happy."

His heart clenched at the innocent declaration. This boy loved him. They'd only been together a few years, just a few years, he didn't think it was long enough for the boy to get so attached but it had been. And now he was burying his face against Undertaker's chest, hugging him tightly. The warm little body against him, the admission of love, that he wanted Undertaker happy, it touched a place inside him he hadn't expected and a little smile formed on his lips. He loved this child too, he realized. He loved him and realized he made the ex-reaper happy again. Even if he had moments like this where he couldn't keep the sadness from sinking over him,  Astre lightened it.

"I'm alright." And he was. Undertaker finished the cookie and then gathered the boy up in his arms, Astre still hugging him tight, and then moved them over to the couch. Staying in the chair might have gotten uncomfortable. He could feel Astre's breathing starting to even out. "I love you too."

And he laid them both out on the couch, pulling a throw blanket from the back of it to drape over the both of them. Astre was probably going to sleep awhile, it wouldn't hurt for him to rest a bit as well.


	6. A Little Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the theory of Undertaker being Vincent's father, young Astre starts seeing people he shouldn't.

It was a quiet day and warm enough that Undertaker saw no reason not to let Astre play outside. He kept the door to his parlor open, something he tried avoiding considering the nature of his job, so he could keep an eye on the boy. And it seemed fine. Even with his bad eyesight, he was familiar enough with the little blur of the boy and Astre never seemed to wander far. He had never needed to call him indoors either. For being as young as he was, Astre was well-behaved and surprisingly responsible, he'd never had to worry about mischief with his foster child. And he was such a shy and quiet boy, that he didn't _have_ to set a curfew or tell him not to talk to, or wander off, with strangers.

That day was different though. Usually he could hear little peals of laughter from the child on and off but he'd gone some time without a sound. So Undertaker pulled himself from one of the coffins he'd needed to finish to go outside, finding his child near an alley, talking with someone animatedly. He frowned, immediately protective and slipping up to the boys side, spotting someone in a suit and spectacles only a few feet from the boy. It took all his control over decades of practice not to tense at the sight. Of course, he recognized the suit, the spectacles, the chartreuse shaded eyes- whatever their scythe was, it was hidden from sight. Probably so the boy wouldn't be frightened, he could remember most weren't the most child-friendly in design.

"Papa! I made a friend!" Astre seemed oblivious to Undertaker's concern, and that was fine. He let his face move towards where the child indicated, his hair hiding his eyes so it was impossible for the reaper to realize he could seem them. After a moment, he smiled down at his charge, shifted his sleeves, and lifted the boy into his arms. The sooner they were away from them, the better. And then he had some hard thoughts to go over in his head, a hard conversation to have with the boy.

"I'm glad for you, Astre, but we should head inside. Going to be dark soon, it is. And you haven't had your supper." It was the easiest excuse, and he'd had a stew started earlier in the day. It had been long enough that it should have been ready, he could sit the boy down right away and he wouldn't be any wiser for the time being.

"But-!"

"No arguing. Not going to risk you getting sick again. I'm sure your friend would agree." And he started walking away, sure he heard some comment from the reaper but it was probably directed at Astre. A bitter part of him wanted to ensure they had nothing to do with the boy, another part was trying to protect himself, but Astre was put in danger just seeing them. At least he had some time to think about how to talk to him about that. Inside, he set the boy down, shut the door, and headed to the backroom and their living area. For now, he let himself focus on supper, filling a couple bowls with stew and cutting some fresh bread for them, setting the table and calling for the boy. Supper was spent in silence, the child seeming to understand that something serious was on his papa's mind. He was insightful and Undertaker couldn't always like it, he didn't want the boy to have to fret over anything if he could help it.

"Why don't you go play or read one of your new books until bedtime, I'll clean everything up." The mortician said once they'd finished and didn't wait, gathering up empty dishes and starting to clean them. It was busy work, putting off the conversation he still wasn't sure how to start. Eventually though, he settled on telling the boy as much as he could without revealing himself.

Closer to bedtime, Undertaker went to Astre and gathered him up, setting his book aside and sitting with him. He brushed a hand through the long, dark hair and smiled. Once, that smile had frightened the boy, now he just smiled back at him.

"I think we've got to talk about your friend today, Astre." All he got was a confused gaze, the boy opening his mouth to question him but he just pressed a finger to those lips. He needed to get this out. "Most people can't see your friend, only a few people can. Very special people."

Perhaps that wasn't the right way to put it. What he'd done, what any of them had done, to become a grim reaper wasn't special. It had been foolish, none of them knowing what waited after. And he'd been even more foolish when he'd met Claudia, willingly engaging in an affair with her, thinking there was no harm but obviously he'd been wrong. Her grandson was seeing things he shouldn't.

"If people see you talking to someone they can't see, they may take you away." Immediately, he had the child clinging to him in terror. Perhaps that had been poor wording as well but it was past now, he couldn't fix that. Instead he ruffled his hair and hugged the boy. "It's alright, papa won't let anyone take you but it'll be easier to you help me."

Those blue eyes, wide and brimming with tears, stared up at him.

"How?" He was sweet, too sweet for what this world frequently had to offer. Nothing was going to harm this soul, he swore it.

"You need to pretend you can't see them." He knew the question that was coming. They wouldn't look any different to him than a normal person. "Anyone in a suit like that or eyes that bright a green, you can't pay attention to them... A bit like a game. They'll ignore other people too and just do their job. So long as you do that, you'll be safe."

"Okay, papa." Astre was slow to agree but he did, hugging him again. With a smile, Undertaker pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Good. Good, he could be reassured he'd be safe. For awhile at least. Vincent had never really shown any signs of reaper abilities but he had to be sure. He had to be safe.

"Bedtime now. And if I scared you, you can sleep with me tonight." He'd regret it, a bit, but it was an easy way to reassure him. And he did end up with the boy in bed with him.


	7. Getting Taller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astre tries to surprise Undertaker. He gets a little sappy.

It wasn't uncommon that Undertaker would go looking for Astre and find him napping, either on Undertaker's bed or on the couch. Both places he'd learned the boy associated with safety and comfort. The couch was at least closer to Undertaker while he was working, and that was where he found him now that he'd finished with his last client of the day. He was curled up and using his arm as a pillow, a throw blanket draped over him and half kicked off. There was a fond smile directed at the boy, one the mortician reserved just for him. He had probably dozed off waiting for Undertaker to finish his work and was probably hungry by then. It wasn't surprising, the day had run a little longer than he tried to keep it, for the boys sake.

He brushed a hand through soft, dark, hair, tugged the blanket up around his shoulders, and headed for the kitchen. Astre would probably fall asleep right after, maybe even during supper, but at least he'd have a full belly. Undertaker tugged out a few spices, some chicken and vegetables from the icebox, and got to work. Before long though, he could hear the soft patter of bare feet on the floor as _someone_ tried to sneak up on the man. And he allowed it. Only moments later, he heard an adorable little "Rawr!" that was followed up by his waist being tackled by his foster child. For the sake of humoring him, Undertaker let out a dramatic 'oof' and stumbled forward before he turned and gathered up the boy. Astre devolved into a fit of giggles immediately. Undertaker hadn't even had a chance to unleash his revenge of tickles on the boy either!

"Really, Astre, should be more careful in the kitchen." He was chided gently. "Don't mind a few burns m'self but I don't want you getting hurt."

He would never forgive himself if the boy were hurt. Already, Undertaker knew, he'd feel those pains as his own. His admission to loving the boy had sealed his fate and as painful as that might be in the future, he was willing to endure it for all the happiness it gave them both. Even if it might spoil what relationship he had with Vincent because of how attached he and the boy had gotten.

"Sorry, papa." Astre's apology, and his pout, pulled Undertaker from his thoughts. And that pout yanked at his heartstrings. So he hugged the boy tight and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Don't hate me."

It was that one childish request that really struck a blow with him. With one hand he set everything aside, keeping Astre settled with his other arm, and then carried them back to the couch. He settled Astre in his lap and poked his nose lightly. It was a teasing gesture, one that easily drew a smile from the boy.

"Now what's that about? Don't hate you? You know I never could. What kind of papa would I be if I could ever hate you?" Undertaker questioned gently, kissing the top of his head again. Astre, in response, snuggled close against him, mumbling something into Undertaker's chest that, even with his hearing, he couldn't quite make. "Now now, let's try that again without the mumbling, hm?"

Hesitantly, his moved his head away from Undertaker's chest, eyes big.

"Do you promise?"

Undertaker smiled and kissed the top of his head again. How could anyone, not just him, ever hate this child? Ever stay angry with this child? He was so sweet, so concerned with how other people thought of him. It simply didn't seem possible.

"I promise. I just want you safe, understand?" His answer came as a little nod as the boy buried his face against his chest again. It seemed supper would have to wait while the boy calmed down. And only a little bit again, he'd been so cheerful. Undertaker needed to make sure the boy ate though so he gathered him up again and started carrying him back to the kitchen. And then an idea struck him. Even with all his strength, his job, and how very small the boy was, he made a little sound like he was struggling.

"Goodness, you are growing fast aren't you." With a little work, he got the boy on the ground again and slipped his hand around Astre's. "We'll have to shop for clothes again soon, your trousers might look like shorts soon. You'll be too tall soon."

His charge lifted his head to look up and slowly let a smile spread across his features. Perfect. That was exactly what he wanted to see again. In the kitchen, he tugged a chair out from the table, just a bit closer to the stove so he could cook and lighten the boys mood still, and patted the seat for him to hop up.

"I'm going to be as tall as you when I'm grown!" The insistence in his voice almost made Undertaker laugh. It almost made him believe that, through sheer force of will, the boy could determine how tall he'd be. If his parents were anything to go by, he very likely would be tall, but his delicate health would likely slow that progress a bit. He hadn't had an asthma fit in awhile though, Undertaker had been very careful to always keep him bundled up in the winter, and never let him miss a meal. It gave him some confidence regarding the boys future, health-wise and in general.

"That so? Just trying to be just like your papa, hm?" He asked with a smile, reaching out and letting a long nail flick at Astre's growing locks. The boy still insisted on letting it grow, only ever letting the ends be trimmed to keep it all growing evenly. And even that had taken a bit of urging from Undertaker! It had also come with a bit of pouting after, even if he'd eventually agreed.

"Just like you!" Came the declaration, smile wide and bright. And he was rewarded with a little ruffle of his hair before Undertaker turned to focus on the food. How funny, he thought, would it be to take Astre to the Phantomhive estate now, let him run around with his brother and cousins, where his aunts and mother would see? How funny would Francis Midford's reaction be? He had to stop a moment to suppress a laugh. Oh, oh that would be funny indeed. Perhaps he'd send a note to Vincent to plan a day for the boys to spend together at the mansion. The Aristocrats had a meeting around this time anyway, might as well plan ahead for the children.

"Well then, we'll have to fill that belly now, won't we? Make sure you get strong too. No sense in gettin' tall if you aren't strong like me too." He'd never let anything hurt this boy. Not even himself.


	8. Hairy Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis gets a little ahead of herself.

The note was sent and when Undertaker went to meet with the other Aristocrats, the twins would be able to play to  their hearts content, he could see his cousins and parents. It wasn't often he took the boy there, he could count the visits on one hand, and it had been long enough since the last visit that he wondered how the boy would handle that style of living compared to what they had in his shop. A part of that scared him, thinking the boy might prefer it, but he reminded himself that Astre never seemed like a child that would want more. He was always happy so long as Undertaker made sure to have books and games for him as well as the occasional sweet.  
  
And then the day came for them to head up to the estate. Undertaker made sure his charge was dressed comfortably and his hair at least brushed. There wasn't a lot he could do with the boy insisting it be allowed to grow. He was touched but he could also see the logic in it. After all, he was partially raising the boy to keep him out of sight of any enemies of house Phantomhive. It hid him from any prying eyes.  
  
The twins immediately started running around the manor when they arrived, Vincent watching with a smile, Undertaker hiding his mirth at the boys and how Ciel regarded his brothers hair as an oddity. Even though he had seen it as it had grown, had seen Undertaker's hair well past his waist. Ah, but what could be done? Children were sometimes strange and made connections in odd places.  
   
He followed Vincent to the billiards room where most of the Villainous Nobles had already settled, talking over brandy, playing billiards, or, in the case of Diedrich, already filling himself on those little finger sandwiches nobles so liked. He could already imagine Astre's reaction to them. Likely something close to distaste. He'd try it but then decide it was too fancy for him, the mortician rubbing off on him more than anyone had likely expected. Or wanted.  
  
The meeting went as most did, discussing issues in England, assignments Vincent had been given, anyone dying under suspicious circumstances passing through Undertaker's shop, and so on. Really, sometimes it was hard to keep awake. He managed though, if only to be alert when he took Astre home.  
  
Shortly after leaving the room, Undertaker felt someone attach to his legs. Glancing down, he was a little gobsmacked to see a head of short hair holding onto him. Squinting to get a clearer picture, he recognized Astre's robes and leaned down to lift him up so he could see clearly. He was pouting, cheeks a little tear stained, and hair very clearly freshly cut. Undertaker could feel the anger build up in him, both at seeing his charge in tears and in knowing years of work at keeping him unnoticed had been ruined.  
  
"What happened?" He asked and the boy started crying again. Not loudly but enough that, in his explanation of Aunt Francis saying his hair was a disgrace and making him sit so she could fix it, he kept hiccuping. And he knew Astre wouldn't have argued, he was too quiet for that, so well behaved that it gave Undertaker hope for when he was a teenager. With a quick hug, he set the boy back down and told him to go and play with Ciel a bit more, he had a couple more things to do before they went home.  
  
First, he spoke with Vincent. And then he went to find Francis Midford. Their conversation was short, he didn't give her the chance to argue and made it clear that what she did was unacceptable. Years of work ruined because of her own ideas on how the boy should look, and he wasn't having it. And then he made it clear that she wasn't to do anything with Astre in the future without his input. Few people went up against Francis Midford. Even fewer tried with Undertaker.  
  
And then he gathered up Astre and took him home, the boy clinging to him miserably. He made sure to sooth the boy along the way, assure him that it would all grow back eventually. And that Francis wouldn't cut it again. Nor would anyone else try without their consent.  
  
Once home, he carried the boy inside instead of making him walk, mostly to help console him that anything else. The tears at least had slowed to a stop until he started to doze. It made him wonder what the twins had been up to but, knowing at least Astre and having seen them at play before, they probably ran all over the house and weaseled sweets out of Tanaka and the other servants.  
  
At least, he told himself, Astre's tears were likely to be the worst of it. Very few people had ever caught sight of Ciel amongst the normal public or underground. Even fewer knew that he had a twin brother. And the boy let himself be reassured by promises of it growing back and that he'd still look like his papa.


	9. Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is going on underground and Astre is caught up in it.

True to his word, Astre saw his hair steadily growing back. Only an inch, at most, had grown so far but it made him happy to see it growing again. And Undertaker was only too happy to see his boy smiling again. Even with the shortened hair, he still dressed and acted like a miniature version of Undertaker, he didn't let it ruin his fun and his spirit. That was the biggest relief to his caretaker.  
  
And as spring was starting to show its face, the boy could let his hair grow out a little more freely without having to worry about the knots he'd get from being all bundled up. It was a chore to fix with someone so young, Astre hated sitting still. It was funny, sometimes, having a boy with such delicate health but couldn't stand sitting still just to have his hair brushed. Other times, it was exhausting, even for the inhuman mortician. The laughter though, that pure, sweet laughter that Astre would release while playing or reading or climbing onto his shoulders, it made every exhausting moment, every fright from him getting sick, worth enduring. And he'd endure more just to see him safe and happy.  
  
And that was going to be tested quickly.  
  
Astre was outside playing, it was one of the warmer days just before spring started proper. He was tending a couple of customers who needed to make plans for funerals, normal business, when he heard a scream and the sound of a carriage moving away from his shop as quickly as a horse could be made to pull it. It was the scream he cared about, the mortician darting out from behind the counter faster than anyone thought him capable.  
  
Even with his diminished eyesight, he could see that his son was missing and that the carriage that had sped away held him inside. He didn't even pause to think about how he'd thought of the boy as his son, instead going inside and telling his guests that they were closed and return the next day before going back out and ducking into the alley so he could leap onto the roof, easier to give chase if he didn't have to hide his reaper abilities.  
  
In the few moments it had taken him, the carriage had put a good distance between themselves and the shop but he could hear angry yells, a few profanities, and the clatter of the wheels speeding against cobble. It made it easier for him to track them down. And when he did... he reached back and fingers briefly touched his sotoba, reassuring himself it was there, easily accessed when he found them.  
  
Eventually they came to a stop down by the docks, and carried the sobbing child inside, now sporting a few bruises and a split lip. It had quieted him some but not enough that, when Undertaker was close enough, he couldn't hear him. A passing thought of Astre crying himself sick entered his mind but he shoved it aside. That could be dealt with once he was sure the boy was safe.  
  
His next thought was 'why here?' That was simple enough to answer though, it was quiet and out of the way. Human trafficking? Well, it was on the docks, easy to move any victims. Astre was just a boy though, no real use to anyone like that. He got closer, hovering in one of the upper windows and then he heard it. They kidnap the Phantomhive boy and demand a ransom.  
  
How simple. Uninspired. And how mistaken. They must not have done this much to have so easily grabbed the wrong boy simply because of his resemblance to the heir of Phantomhive. Who would actually think Ciel would be left on his own in London outside of a morticians shop. Really, they were hopeless. It was almost a waste for him to put at end to them but they had not only kidnapped Astre, but they'd also harmed him. _That_ was utterly unforgivable.  
  
And just like that, he leapt down into the warehouse, drawing out his sotoba from behind his robes, and landed just behind the group of men. There weren't many but they were decently armed, most with guns and others with knives. He counted at least seven close enough to him, three or four near Astre but his vision was too blurry to make them out clearly. What really mattered though wasn't the number, oh he could handle them, he just cared that his son wasn't close enough to be hurt.  
  
And just like that, he let his scythes disguise fall away as the men attempted to rush him. He didn't make it easy for them, jumping this way and that, grinning madly and stabbing them or cutting them in half one by one. He let them see as each of their comrades fell, let the hopelessness of their situation fill them with despair- and he enjoyed it. They deserved that misery for what they'd done.  
  
The green glow of his scythe filled the building until none were left standing and Astre sat staring in terrified silence, eyes filled with unshed tears and arms tied tightly behind his back. And Undertaker realized he hated that silence. He hated the look of fear Astre had on as he approached. He almost preferred screams and sobs, but he got nothing. Not until his scythe was a harmless-looking bit of wood again, and he cut the ties that held the boy.  
  
Then the floodgates opened. Heart-wrenching sobs erupted from the child and he threw his arms around Undertaker's neck. The reaper has expected fear, not wanting him close or even for him to touch him, but instead Astre held tight and cried. And he wrapped his arms securely around him, lifting him up and holding him close.  
  
"We'll go home now, don't you worry none. Might be a bit scary how we do, hold on." He didn't want this child around so much blood and fear for too long, didn't want him near when the yard found the massacre. So he utilized his reaper abilities and teleported them straight back to their room in the shop, setting Astre down on his bed and looking him over. Half his face had already formed into a bruise, almost nothing but, and the split lip had at least slowed its bleeding. It was a relief to see it probably wouldn't need stitches.  
  
He was still crying by then but the tears had slowed and the sobs were mostly replaced with little hiccups. Undertaker left him for a moment to get a damp cloth to clean his lip and found him immediately latching onto him as he returned.  
  
Long nails gently brushed through his hair, trying to soothe him as he handed the cloth to Astre and picked him up, setting him on his lap as he sat down to clean his lip.  
  
"Thought you'd be right scared to be so close." Undertaker's tone was light, careful, dabbing at the boys lip and watching him. There was another little hiccup and the child frowned, slowly shaking his head. He still looked miserable.  
  
"You were scary." He said it simply, but then looked up to where his papa's eyes were. "They were scarier. You never hurt me unless I'm bad." And even then, a bottom spanking didn't compare to what he'd just endured. It made his heart clench, it reminded him of how human he still was, how much he loved this boy. So, carefully, he hugged him close and kissed the top of his head.  
  
"They kept calling me Ciel. And they told me to be quiet even though I told them I wasn't." So that was how he'd gotten one of those injuries. One had probably come from when they initially grabbed him and it didn't make him any less regretful that he'd killed them.  
  
Still, he wondered, just who had put them on the Phantomhive's trail? How had they known what Ciel looked like to mistake Astre for him? Even if his hair had grown out a bit, no noble would have allowed their heir to dress like the mortician. They must have been hired hands, people who wouldn't ask too many questions or reveal too much if they'd been arrested. He should have checked their records before leaving but now... he wasn't going anywhere for awhile, not while his child was afraid and needed him close.  
  
"You've had a long day." He wanted to see Astre smile again. "How about, just this once, we have dessert and then supper, hm?"  
  
And it worked, Astre's eyes lighting up and a pained smile crossing his features.  
  
"Chocolate?" It made Undertaker laugh and he kissed his head again.  
  
"Chocolate, of course."  He deserved whatever he'd like after all that. And so he'd have it. Later Undertaker would send a note in warning to Vincent. He'd probably get an earful about it later but Astre was safe now, and happy in the promise of sweeties.


	10. A New Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astre wonders about his papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little while, since it evolved a plot and the past couple chapters that were released were emotionally devastating. So this is definitely some filler, some easy, lighthearted stuff.

In the few days since the attempted kidnapping and ransom, Astre and Undertaker had been visited Vincent, Rachel, Ciel, and Angelina. His lip was properly treated by the doctor and his parents and brother doted over him. He wasn't entirely comfortable over so much attention but Undertaker was proud to see him get through it with a smile on his face.

With the visits out of the way though, Astre stuck close to Undertaker. That was more surprising than anything. In the aftermath of the kidnapping, it wasn't too out of place. He had needed the comfort of his guardian. Over the past few nights though, he'd woken to the boy crawling into his bed after a nightmare and curling close. It was a blessing that he was rested enough each day to tend to his customers and still comfort the child. Eventually though, he did have to put this to rest. Neither of them were getting enough sleep and while he could manage it just fine after years of working as a reaper and a mortician, Astre was still just a child and it would eventually affect his health. He couldn't have that.

One day of business, maybe a couple more, he could risk. Vincent would doubtless cover the losses if it were brought up but he'd rather not rely on the noble so much. Especially since the boy had taken to calling him papa and he had begun to think about him as his son. It was an awkward situation and one he'd prefer to avoid bringing to light. Not any time soon, at least.

So he kept the shop closed for a couple days. He wasn't the only mortician in London, just the best, customers would look elsewhere. And when Astre was awake, he gathered him up, made sure he had a good breakfast, and then sat him on the couch to talk with him.

"Been having bad dreams, haven't you?" It was normal, with them, that Undertaker didn't dance around anything. And Astre was used to it enough that he watched his papa, eyes wide, climbing into his lap without any objection from the man.  And the was no denial from the boy. With a little sigh, he combed his fingers through that hair and kissed the top of his head.

"Tell me what's wrong. We'll make it better, you and I." He promised it so easily. And it seemed so silly how easy it was to make that promise but he'd already shown that he would go to great lengths to see to Astre's safety and happiness. The boy curled up a little bit closer, face buried against his chest, and he mumbled something. Then remembered he couldn't be heard or understood well like that.

"Keep dreaming they're gonna come back. And you get scary again." Even though he knew Undertaker wouldn't hurt him.

The confession made Undertaker tense a little, and Astre noticed, looking up at him again and hugging him. As if trying to reassure him that he still loved his papa. "How come you could do all that? No one else did anything like that. And you aren't mean or anything like they were." He was young, it didn't make sense to him. Good people didn't do things like that, right? And yet his papa did and there wasn't anyone in the world better than he was.

And Undertaker seemed to understand that. He had to think. Astre was clever and observant. Moreso than his brother, he'd dare to say. He'd notice more and more as he got older and by then, he might lose some of the trust between them. And he didn't want that.

The truth then. Or as much of it as he could tell someone so young.

"Do you recall those people I told you to pretend you can't see?" There was a little nod. Of course he remembered, he still saw them from time to time. He'd done as he promised though and continued to pretend. Undertaker took a moment to think about how to phrase this. "I used to work with them. I learned a lot about fighting with funny weapons when I did. And that's what you saw me do."

Not entirely a lie but not the entire truth either. Astre was still so young, he might say something he shouldn't and to the wrong people purely because he was young and eager.

"But I'd never use it to hurt anyone good. Or you. You should know that. I'll never let anything or anyone hurt you. You know that." He'd acknowledged it after the event, that he only ever got a bottom spanking when he was naughty. And it was such a rare occasion anymore that it was a dim memory for both. The boy nodded a little but he didn't look entirely convinced.

"What if i promise to warn you if I ever do it again? Would that ease your mind?" And he seemed to think about it, nodding slowly before adding a condition of his own:

"And I can sleep with you whenever I want?"

Undertaker heaved a sigh, overly dramatic and with a grin before ruffling his hair.

"If that is what it takes to help calm your dreams."


	11. A Coin for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They grow up so fast!

It seemed like the days flew by with Astre. So much faster than he had thought they might when he'd adopted the boy. He was still small, and that gave Undertaker the chance to pretend, even a little bit, that he wasn't growing up so fast.

The incident with the attempted kidnapping seemed to have faded from the child's mind, only the occasional nightmare bringing the boy to his bed, clinging and whimpering. And he took those nights in stride, pulling the boy close and making sure the blankets were snug around him. That was the worst of it though. Astre ate his vegetables when asked, helped tidy up after meals and put away his toys and books. They had visits from Vincent and Ciel, sometimes Rachel as well but she never lacked a look of longing at seeing the younger twin. Especially as he grew in Undertaker's care and became more like the mortician each day.

But he remained Undertaker's little boy, even with the maturity he showed. At least, he did for a little while longer. Until one evening, he poked at his food instead of finishing it off. Sometimes, if he wasn't feeling well, he'd noticed the boy would avoid his food but he'd been active enough during the day. He usually slowed down considerably when he was ill.

He let it slide for the moment though, watching him. Before he finished his own meal though, he set his fork aside and twined his fingers together, resting his chin on them.

"Astre. You're hardly eating. Do you not feel well?" The boy peeked up, looking a little miserable and slowly shook his head. Well, at least he was honest. He was usually a little more hesitant.

"Not really... can I go to bed?" Came a little mumble. Undertaker couldn't help a little sigh but he nodded and gave a promise of warm milk and honey before he fell asleep. And then watched the boy scurry off, clearing up the table himself after and getting the promised milk.

He found Astre already curled up in bed, one finger in his mouth and poking about. And immediately Undertaker understood. He said nothing though, approaching the boys bedside and sitting on the edge, offering out the cup.

"As promised. Drink up and I'll tuck you in all cozy." He wasn't sure he had ever seen the boy so eager to finish his drink or go to bed and he wondered how long his tooth had been bothering him. For now, a little sleep. And if he wasn't honest by supper the next day, he'd find a way to bring it up.

Astre was out like a light before long and Undertaker took a moment to gently card his fingers through that dark hair. His sweet boy, already getting wiggly teeth. He hadn't realized he was older enough but, as he went through the math in his head, he supposed it wasn't too surprising.

He was seven already. Seven and still too sweet. Too young to be losing his baby teeth, the irrational part of his mind yelled. Undertaker knew better, as a mortician and with his studies into medicine. Children could start losing their teeth as young as four but Astre's health was so delicate. If this made it hard for him to eat, he'd get sick. He didn't mind caring for the boy, not even a little, but he hated seeing how miserable he was.

At breakfast, instead, he thought. He'd ask about his tooth. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to Astre's hair.

"Sleep well, little one. Might hate me a little tomorrow." One more kiss to his hair, already feeling the guilt gnawing at him, before getting ready for bed himself and settling down. He didn't want the next day to come but he dozed off and the next thing he knew, the sun was peeking through his windows.

A soft breakfast was already in mind for Astre, something that wouldn't hurt a wiggling tooth. Then he found a string, suitable to the task he had in mind, and went to wake the boy. Who very much didn't want to get up just yet. His tooth had probably woken him a couple times in the night but he didn't want to ruin the careful schedule they'd made themselves over the years.

"Come on now, we'll have ourselves some breakfast and a bit of tea. You'll perk right up. Do it for your papa, hm?" There was a little bit of whining but, eventually, Astre pulled himself out from under his blankets, reaching for his papa. With a dramatic sigh, he gathered the boy into his arms and carried him to the table, making sure he was settled before starting their breakfast. Tea was first, he hoped it might sooth the boy a little, and then eggs. Simple but easy on the stomach.

The tea certainly perked him up and the eggs, he'd guessed rightly, were devoured. Poor boy. Rather than dancing around the subject, once they'd finished, he stood and walked over to his child and brushed a hand through his hair.

"How long's your tooth been bother you, Astre?" His head bowed, guilty, and he could see a little pout. Almost like he was afraid to answer. Undertaker let out a soft sigh and reached down, picking him up again and hugging him close. Immediately, Astre hid his face against Undertaker's chest.

"There's nothing wrong, Astre. You could have told me. We could have fixed this sooner. C'mon now, tell me what's got you so pouty."

"... tooth's wobbly." The boy mumbled against him. Long nails gently scritched along his back.

"Is that all?" Astre peeked his face up, looking a tad surprised. "It just means your baby tooth is coming out. Making room for your grown up teeth. Nothing to be scared over."

He'd known it but saying it for Astre had an obvious calming effect on the child. That's what he'd wanted.

"I didn't do something wrong then?" And the mortician gave a little laugh, kissing his forehead.

"Not at all. In fact, if you trust me, we can take care of that." The way his eyes lit up, Undertaker's heart ached a little. "It's going to hurt a little but then, if there are no cavities, we can leave it out for the tooth fairy. Hm?"

It didn't ease his guilt, especially with the dubious look he was given, but Astre gave a nod. And he let out a sigh before guiding him to the door to their room. He walked him through the process, trying to be gentle about it. A string around the tooth, the other end around the knob. A quick slam of the door and it would be over.

Astre was clearly uncomfortable, tears already prickling at the corners of his eyes as Undertaker looped the string around the correct tooth, but he was brave. And Undertaker couldn't be more proud. He made it quick and there were tears, his guilt feeling more like a punch in the gut now than an ache and he gathered him and the tooth up.

"All done now. And look, no cavities. Looks like someone will have a coin come morning, won't they?" And there was the smile he'd been wanting, as he carried Astre into the bathroom and found him a cloth to soak up the blood.

"And as a treat for being so brave, how about some warm milk and honey? And I'll even read you a story or two." He knew he'd probably doze off but the offer brightened his boy up so much.

And doze off he did. Before he'd finished half his cup of milk and barely a few pages into the story he'd picked. Poor, sweet thing. With his Papa Undertaker wrapped completely around those little fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a bit more sweetness and it took me a little while to find just what I wanted. I'm sorry for that. I also figured, growing up in such a different environment, he might lose teeth at a different time than the implied eleven years old in chapter 96.5 of the manga.


End file.
